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She'd been late again, and Joan hadn't done anything yet. Annie was getting more and more worried. In fact, Joan had hardly glanced her way all week, and she was starting to wonder if her boss had just given up. Maybe I'll come back after lunch and all my stuff will have just disappeared, she mused flicking through tabs to find the next Russian newspaper she was supposed to inventory.

In the meantime, though, lunch sounded like an excellent idea. As she packed up, Annie realized that most of the DPD had already left. She'd been so immersed in her Russian newspapers she hadn't noticed them leaving. Since when had paperwork been absorbing she wondered, habitually glancing at Auggie's empty office. Right. Since that happened.

Annie's steps sounded unnaturally loud on the stone corridor as she made her way to the elevator. Just because she could, she concentrated on pacing a perfectly straight line down the center of the empty space.

God, she was tired. And worried about Danielle's marriage and Auggie and herself. Above all she was bored. The week after Auggie left had been a whirlwind. She had talked to him the minute his flight landed in Asmara, and he had asked her to arrange some of the things he hadn't had time to do. She was so overjoyed to speak to him that she had instantly agreed. Only later had it occurred to her that she could have refused and forced him to abandon his insane quest.

She had filled out crazy amounts of paperwork to get him extended leave for a "family emergency", and had begun the search for a temporary Tech Ops director (in the end, Stu had volunteered and nobody had said no). She'd cancelled the mail and the car service. She also privately went over to his apartment to take out the trash and clear the fridge. By the time she was done, she figured Auggie owed her about a million sandwiches.

It hit her as she pushed the dully glowing button that all she'd done since then was work, attempt sleep, and chat with Auggie on the phone. And although hearing his voice was the highlight of her week, it didn't feel like talking to Auggie. They both avoided real conversation for fear of treading into forbidden territory (which included work, Eritrea, Parker, Stockholm, or anything interesting for that matter). For nearly three weeks, they hadn't talked about much more than the weather or what Stu had for lunch. It really wasn't enough, but it was still what she looked forward to, and realizing that she was scheduled to call him at eleven that night made her smile.

She found Eric and Brianne, an agent and an analyst who worked near her, and flopped down across from them. She ended up just getting more coffee, and chatted for the half hour that was left of lunch. They were going to get drinks after work since it was a Friday, and Annie figured it wouldn't hurt to go out with them. Home was no fun as Dani and Michal tried to figure out what to do about their screwed-up marriage, and she didn't really want to sit by herself eating ice cream. She headed back a little less morose than before.

The newspapers didn't get any more interesting as the day went on, and Annie found she was starting to regret not eating anything at all. She had just started to shut everything down when she felt rather than heard someone behind her. She knew it was Joan without having to turn around. Her judgment day had come.

"Annie, I'd like to talk to you before you leave," said Joan, turning back toward her office. As usual, it was fairly clear that despite her neutral tone, Joan meant her comment as a command to follow.

Annie expected her to begin her lecture once they'd sorted out the various settling-in scufflings, but to her surprise Joan wilted back into her chair and sighed.

"I'm not quite sure how to begin what I need to say," she said, fixing Annie with her working-out-a-problem look.

"Joan, I can explain about this morning."

"This morning yes. What about last week? What about the Uruguay mission you refused? Annie, I've made patterns my living for nearly thirty years, and there's a very obvious and very dangerous pattern going on here."

Annie froze. She'd been expecting this. For the past three weeks she had been slipping, but she had rationalized her missed appointments and bungled paperwork as isolated events. "Please Joan, I just – "

"I'm worried, Annie. Not angry yet. You've done what I asked. You've been a solid agent. But that's all you've been. You have never turned down a mission before."

"I'm allowed to request reassignment if I feel I can't perform my job to the best of my ability," Annie scrambled. It was bullshit, and they both knew it.

Joan fixed her with a piercing stare. "Yet you never have. Until last week when I gave you a rookie's brush pass."

"I – "

"Just… let me talk please. You have legitimate excuses, and as I mentioned, you've been a solid agent. But Stockholm is nearly a month in the past, and I need Annie Walker back. How is your therapy going?"

That threw Annie off. Actually, the therapy program she'd been put on after shooting Kroft was going very well indeed. She still felt the recoil at random moments in the day, still couldn't watch action movies on TV, but she had to admit that therapists were unfairly given a bad name.

Joan sat back again, and if Annie hadn't known better, she'd have said her mouth twitched into a grim smile.

"I thought so. This has to do with our end of the mission."

"Excuse me?"

"You know what I mean, Annie. A mission is more than just the agent I send in."

Annie did know. Without coming out and saying it, Joan was talking about Auggie. Which was completely unfair. She'd done three missions without Auggie! One of them had been pretty dangerous too. Deep down, though, she knew what Joan was talking about. She had trusted the handlers as she'd been taught on the Farm. That is, she'd used the silly code names, listened to the clinical instructions, and trusted the voice on the other end to get her in and get her out – no more and no less. In the process, she had ceased to be Annie Walker, the woman who dared break into a DC morgue, who chose the Ukraine over Poland because it was exactly what she was not supposed to do. And three days ago, after a particularly horrible Auggie-induced nightmare, she'd turned down a simple brush-pass. She was letting her personal life affect her work, the cardinal sin of a CIA agent.

"You know well that the most important part of this job is your handle on relationships. You either deal with them or you don't last for more than a few years. I hope you can deal because it would be pretty damn hard for the Agency to find another Annie Walker."

There was a beat or two of silence, and Annie wondered if she was supposed to say something, to cross the line and ask Joan how the hell she was supposed to find said Annie Walker again. But Joan decided for her, "That's all. See you tomorrow, Annie."

"Thank you," Annie replied. On the way out of the building she fought to repress a smile. Joan was concerned, and had almost descended from her boss-tower to give Annie advice. It was time to snap out of whatever was going on. If she could learn to trust everything to Auggie, she could probably learn to trust another handler with almost as much. Joan's confidence was more than enough reason to at least try.

AN: I don't know if anyone's still interested, but I figured I should finish this off. :) By the way, the story is going chronologically, but time may pass between chapters. For instance, about a week has passed between the last two chapters and this one. The next chapter will be right after this timewise, but there is an 8 hour time difference between here and Eritrea (thus, when Annie calls Auggie at eleven today, it will be six tomorrow where he is.)